To Make You Love Me
by ScHiZoPhReNiC-GoLlUm
Summary: When young, fierce and beautiful Eowyn teams up with powerful, sly Legolas, there's nothing they can't get - besides the love of whom they desire.
1. Blood Roses

A/N: I do not own any characters mentioned in this Fanfiction, and who really cares who owns them? This story was written for entertainment, no profits are made. Heed this warning: this story is dark. There are no deer with twinkling eyes, nor furry bunny rabbits. It's an AU set approximately three years after the destruction of the Ring. Gondor has been restored, and Man's time has come to reign Middle-Earth. Given point of view is expressed in parentheses.  
  
To Make You Love Me  
  
Chapter One - Blood Roses  
  
:::  
  
Am I not beautiful? I looked at my reflection in the body-length mirror. Clear blue eyes, long golden hair, a scatter of light freckles on my nose. I saw finely toned legs and arms, high breasts and a narrow waist. No, I was a fair creature. Any fool could see that.  
  
Am I not intelligent? I was born to love literature, to spend my nights pouring over the documentaries and faded scripts my forefathers had written about war, about destiny, about their lives. I knew the language of many, and rarely could any woman read or write at this day and age. I was no fool.  
  
Am I not brave? Did I not plunge into battle beside my beloved brother and King? Didn't you hear of my defeat of the Witch-King, how I chivalrously plunged my knife into his wicked black heart? Was I not a hero, a Goddess loved by the people of Rohan?  
  
What about royalty, am I wealthy, am I born noble? Why, I am the sister of the King of Rohan! My brother, Eomer, sits upon his throne, grey eyes flashing. I am known throughout the lands of Middle-Earth, I am famous for my deeds. My wealth does not matter, and nor does it matter to you. Look at the silk my dress is made of, look at the fine gold detail inscribed in the rich cloth. See the ruby I wear at my throat, the sparkling pendant? I am not poor.  
  
What of my strength? Did I not survive a fatal wound? Are my hands soft like a baby's? No, look at the firm calluses from all those years of swordbearing. I can fight for myself, and I can even defeat your famous blade with a quick flick of the wrist! And where did this strength come from? I worked for it. Day and night, I stole time to practice riding and swordfighting, and was never caught. I could run like a deer, quick and nimble. Magic never danced at my fingertips, I could not summon any power. All I have is, by right, mine. I am no slave, no bitch to some stupid bumbling man.  
  
Beauty, intelligence, courage, royalty, strength. What more do you want of me, my King? What more can I offer? Am I not everything one can want? Yes, I am.  
  
Why don't you love me?  
  
:::  
  
(Aragorn)  
  
:::  
  
The first rays of the Sun poured in through the open window, streaks of pale rose and faint orange filtering in and illuminating her face. I watched her, lying so peacefully next to me. Her face was serene and her skin was like cream, so smooth and light. Her deep blue eyes were closed, and her naturally rouged lips set on the faintest smile in her sleep. Every time I looked at her face, she seemed even more beautiful, more pure, more youthful.  
  
Arwen, my beloved Evenstar, how I love you! How I love your voice, your face, your thoughts, your everything.  
  
Gently, I brushed a few stray strands of her long hair from her face. Ah, my beloved wife. Her delicately pointed ears, the smell of her hair, the soft heaving of her chest as she breathed-oh, truly the Gods were artists, and my Arwen was their masterpiece.  
  
Her soft eyes fluttered open and saw me watching her. She smiled, the tiniest muscle flickering near her mouth.  
  
"Good morning, my love," I whispered, gazing into her fathomless eyes. I was going to drown in her eyes, they were like the gentle lapping of waves, caressing me...  
  
"Good morning, my beloved King," her lips and eyes told me. The sweetest voice, the sweetest smile. The look in her soft eyes.  
  
She really loved me.  
  
And it was during these moments in which I was the happiest man alive.  
  
:::  
  
(Eowyn)  
  
:::  
  
I surveyed the roses in my hands. A deep crimson, the color of blood. Lifting them up to my nose, I inhaled its sweet yet bitter scent. Roses, the flowers of passion and of love. My favorite.  
  
How sweet Faramir was! How he loved me, worshipped me. I was his treasure, the light in his eyes.  
  
"Do you like them?" he asked me. I turned around to greet his smile.  
  
"They're beautiful, love." I leaned over and gave him a sensuous kiss. "I shall send for someone to put them in a lovely vase, next to our bed," I said. "So that you'll always be in my heart."  
  
Indeed, always. Even after you're gone.  
  
I walked quietly and sat beside Faramir, using my right hand to hold his left in the gentlest way possible. No, he would not suspect anything. Just when he turned around to meet my eyes, I flicked my wrist smartly and the dagger in my sleeve was at his throat, silver blade gleaming wickedly. His eyes widened in surprise, and he gave a little grunt.  
  
"Faramir, my love," I whispered softly into his ear. "My foolish little husband, whom has served me so well over the years." He stared at me, frozen in fear. I couldn't help but smile at his oblivion, his innocence.  
  
"Thank you for the flowers," I crooned, digging the dagger deep. Then, in a quick fluid motion, I slit his throat. He gurgled, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Dead. The blood was pouring in a torrent from his neck, forming a red pool at his feet. I quickly pulled out the dagger and gave myself injuries. A cut on the thigh, one near the collarbone. A deep scratch on the forearm. I dipped my hair in Faramir's blood and made it messy.  
  
A knock on the door. I quickly covered Faramir's body with a heavy wool blanket and opened the door. There stood Ella, my waiting-woman, with a pitcher of water for the flowers. I flashed her a grin and pressed my dagger into her slender hand. She gasped, seeing the blood in the room, but it was too late. I closed the door and locked it, and ran down the hallway.  
  
:::  
  
(Eomer)  
  
:::  
  
"Milord! Brother Eomer! Something terrible has happened!" Eowyn's voice rang clearly in the great hall. I turned to see her running in, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.  
  
Her chest, it was bleeding! And another cut on the thigh, the blood seeping through her silk dress, and blood in her lovely golden hair! She was crying hysterically, and I was at a loss. She was so scared, so helpless...I immediately embraced her thin figure. She smelled, ironically, of roses.  
  
"Sh-sh-sh-she-pl-plunged it ri-right in!" she sobbed, clutching on to me. I put my hands on her frail shoulders and shook her gently.  
  
"Eowyn, what has happened?" Horrible images flooded my mind. It took a lot to break my sister into tears, and even more to wound her! "Why is there blood on you, tell me!"  
  
Her eyelids closed, and her breathing grew short. Her body went limp in my arms, but one word escaped her lips before she gave dead away: "Faramir."  
  
It began to rain outside.  
  
:::  
  
(Legolas)  
  
:::  
  
The wind and rain whipped my hair, tossing its tendrils about in the air. I blinked the water from my eyes as my steed charged on, his great hooves thundering across the Rohan plains. I could already see Meduseld in the distance, looming above the city. The sky was darkening, and I pressed my beast to run faster. Luckily, Rohan was close to Mirkwood, and after the messenger came with the news, I still had enough time to ride the two hours to see Eomer and Eowyn before nightfall. Probably three hours, since it began to rain halfway through.  
  
The ground was slippery from the cold rain, and I knew my horse was tired. I hadn't been wise in running him the whole time. His breath was quick, and the steam came from his nostrils in great huffs. Despite his exhaustion, he kept on running, the awesome muscles rippling through his powerful thighs. His speed was great, and my cloak flew in the air like a black phantom, whipping this way and that.  
  
I was shivering, teeth chattering, but it didn't matter. What I felt was a mix of pride and accomplishment. Eowyn had done it, and the two of us were well on our way to our near-impossible goal.  
  
:::  
  
I burst in the doors, wet and tired, but on full alert. What a scene! A beautiful young woman with rusty brown hair and verdant eyes was being held back by stern guards. Her hands were bloody, and her face red from screaming. So this was the girl, the innocent one. I clucked my teeth. What a waste of such a lovely creature!  
  
"IT WASN'T ME, I SWEAR IT, LORD EOMER!" she shrieked, on the brink of insanity. "I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, THAT BITCH KILLED HIM!" One guard clapped a great hand over her mouth, but she must've bit him, because he pulled back. Her eyes were red from crying, and her voice was cracking. She was breaking.  
  
Eowyn stood, pale and lovely, her cold blue eyes filled with silver tears. "You worthless sow, you killed my husband and tried to kill me!" She gestured to the great bloodstain on her chest. "Curse you, you witch!"  
  
She saw me, and rushed toward me, golden hair streaming behind like a cascade. I received firmly her in my arms, trying not to touch her bleeding chest nor leg. Clever girl, you faked your own injuries! Behind her, Eomer approached. His faced was stressed, and his eyes cloudy. Weary lines were on his forehead. Poor Eomer, oblivious Eomer who had to suffer for his sister...  
  
"Legolas," he nodded briefly. I returned the greeting. "My friend, Eomer, this day indeed is dark."  
  
Eowyn, at my words, buried her precious little face into my chest and started sobbing again. I held her tight, letting her tears wet my tunic, although that this point it was pretty much saturated.  
  
"Oh, Legolas," came her muffled cry. "I don't know why she did it, my beloved Faramir, dead! Oh, all the years I've known her..."  
  
Eomer's eyes flashed with anger. "I say it's about time we show justice to those who deserve it," he muttered. I nodded firmly.  
  
Eowyn turned as Eomer walked back to Ella. She was still in my arms, her hand upon my chest, bright blue eyes taking in every detail. We both watched as Eomer drew his sword. It glinted brightly, and he raised it high above his head. His eyes were full of a rage I'd never seen before.  
  
"I SWEAR IT UPON MY LIFE, IT WASN'T ME!" Ella screamed. "IT WASN'T M-"  
  
A crack of lightening gave us enough light to clearly see Eomer's sword smashing down upon her neck.  
  
Faramir was gone, and the only person who could ruin the first step was gone. Eowyn turned back to me, her soft pink lips smiling.  
  
"Well done, Eowyn," I congratulated her softly. Her eyes twinkled in mirth.  
  
"Your turn..." she whispered into my ears.  
  
:::  
  
TBC 


	2. Flickering Light

:::  
  
(Aragorn)  
  
:::  
  
My fingers trembled and a teardrop landed on the parchment in my hands, forming a grey splotch. Was this reality? Another one? Oh, Elbereth, this could not be happening...no...  
  
Arwen, coming from behind, put a gentle hand on my shoulders. I turned to face her. Confused eyes, a slight arch in her unbroken eyebrows. Her expression asked me the question I most dreaded, but I forced my lips to move.  
  
"Faramir is dead." My voice was flat and dead to the world. She was silent, her face serene and unmoving. "His throat was slit, he died instantly."  
  
"He died in Rohan, didn't he?" Her tone was cool, calm. Why were her eyes so cold now, looking at my face with suspicion? Why wasn't she stricken by grief?  
  
"Yes," I frowned. "A visit to King Eomer, Faramir and his wife. They sojourned for a bit over a week. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Oh, no reason. Who killed him?" Ice in her eyes, but they began to melt into tears. Maybe I'd just imagined this temporary strange reserved look.  
  
"I know her not, but Eowyn's waiting-woman," I answered. A weird feeling flushed through me, mentioning her name. Eowyn, White Lady of Gondor. Beautiful, cold Eowyn, like a rose trapped in a block of ice. I sighed. "They say she went on a rampage. She'd tried to kill them both. Eowyn got away with quite a few wounds, but Faramir had been killed first and was caught by surprise."  
  
"She must be devastated," Arwen whispered pensively. "I'd never bear to lose you," she came into my arms. I buried my face in her soft hair and enveloped her slender figure to me.  
  
Ah, such bitter loss. Faramir, Faramir, you would join your brother and father in death, would you not? I whispered a prayer to the Gods. Help him, reunite him with his family. It was the last line of the Stewards of Gondor.  
  
Oh, and he was so young! A man at his prime, fierce, loving, strong...Gondor would mourn for his loss, I knew. But first, it was time for his close of kin to mourn. Still embracing my beloved Arwen, I gently whispered into her ear, "We shall leave for the funeral at the first of dawn tomorrow, my love."  
  
:::  
  
(Legolas)  
  
:::  
  
I thought of her, her cool beauty, her eternal voice. Ah, Arwen, the Light of your people, how I love you so. For so long did I want you, did I need you. I knew I could love you the way no other would, with respect and compassion. I knew I would be the one, and our marriage would've been eternal...  
  
But alas, there had been another.  
  
'Twas of the Midsummer Festival, held in the Second Age. Of the date, so long ago, it'd slipped my mind. My beloved Father and brothers were so eager to visit Lord Elrond, we hadn't been in Imladris for centuries. I barely remembered the journey, for I was in eager anticipation of this Festival. There would be festivity and joy, and of course, the renowned Summer Ball.  
  
I still remember being amazed when Elrond's great doors opened and our family first entered the ballroom. Tables and tables of exotic foods I'd never set upon my tongue, hundreds of beautiful Elves and people in their finest attire, the walls decorated with tapestries, the sharp fragrance of cherry wine...oh, the memory of that night would never leave me.  
  
With my longtime friends Elledan and Elrohir, I sat and talked of recent going-ons, laughing and enjoying myself to the fullest. How wonderful this gathering, how divine! The conversation somehow got off topic, and before long, the twin brothers were pulling me up and urging me to meet you.  
  
"No, no!" I remembered, protesting and laughing. I'd drank quite a bit. "I've known Arwen since she was a little girl and used to tease her, she should hate me now!"  
  
They didn't listen, but clenched firm fingers round my wrist and led me to a bevy of lovely young ladies. We were quite young, so all the girls quieted and blushed. I wasn't aware of my good looks then, my blue eyes and the exquisite bones in my face. All I knew was that when a certain Elven maiden stepped up and curtsied, locking her eyes into mine, I was stupefied.  
  
Eru, was this real?  
  
She was stunning. She had the deepest azure eyes I'd ever gazed into. High, flushed cheekbones and well-shaped lips showed her femininity. Oh, and her deep green gown, how it revealed her narrow waist, slender legs and defined collarbone! Her deep auburn hair, rippling in soft waves down to her waist, spilled over her shoulders so naturally. This had to be the perfection of the perfect. Never had I seen one of beautiful, so intense. Her eyes were so large, so innocent, I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss her...  
  
"Prince Legolas," she murmured. Such a deep voice! She had changed so much from a doll-loving, adorable little girl to a beautiful and serene maiden. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Was my tunic wrinkled? Why were my hands sweating so much? Did she notice that I'd drunk several goblets of wine?  
  
"Arwen," I bowed, hating the way my voice sounded so whiny and flat compared to her deep, beautiful tone. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort.  
  
"How was your journey here?" she said thoughtfully. Oh, her eyes were so deep, so blue.  
  
"Fine," I replied. "If you can tolerate a day's worth of wet, humid rain, that is," I smiled, then I felt like an idiot. Would I seem like a fool to be afraid of rain?  
  
Arwen smiled, her eyes twinkling in mirth. "These days, the weather is intolerable, yes." Beside me, a flock of Elven maidens had shyly began to talk to Elledan and Elrohir, but Arwen was talking to me, looking in my eyes, focusing on me...  
  
I was staring, and I knew it. Was this love? No, it couldn't be, I barely even knew Arwen! She probably already had a lover, how could she not? The thought stung me, and my face must've shown my feelings because she reached over and gently touched my arm.  
  
"Are you feeling well, Legolas?" she asked, her frown making the slightest crease between her eyebrows. I couldn't help but notice these little details.  
  
"I-I'm fine," I averted my eyes. Eru, this woman was making me go crazy! I had to say something, something intelligent. She was the one making all the conversation, while I just stood and answered her. "Your father has prepared such a grand evening for us, milady. My father and I are truly honored to be here tonight."  
  
She smiled wistfully. "Yes, Lord Elrond has once again outdone himself. You cannot possibly imagine all the hours he spent planning this event, but personally, I find these celebrations a bit dull. It's always the same routine. Even a bit of a waste of time."  
  
I'd never thought Arwen could be even the slightest bit unhappy. Didn't she have it all? No, of course not, what was I thinking? She was just like me, she had her likes and dislikes.  
  
"I can imagine," I said, lifting up a bottle of white wine. "Would you like more?" She held up her goblet and I carefully poured the tangy liquid into her cup before filling mine also. The way she looked at me sent cold shivers down my back. Her eyes were so deep and mysterious yet penetrating, I felt exposed under her gaze.  
  
"Legolas!" Elrohir gestured, coming over. "The dinner is starting soon, and your Father wants you to be there." I smiled apologetically to Arwen and whispered a goodbye. Throughout dinner, I barely ate any food. Arwen sat next to her brothers, and I across from her, but we did not speak. I did, although, sneak glances at her every so often. She ate lightly also, seemingly distracted by something.  
  
When the feast had ended, stomachs were filled and spirits were high. The lights dimmed and soft waltz music began. Of course, the ball. I glanced at Arwen. Already many couples had stepped onto the floor, and she was staring at them wistfully. Did she have someone to dance with? Or was she missing somebody? I ached to know. She turned around to meet my eyes, and without knowing what I was doing, I blurted it out.  
  
"Would you like to dance?"  
  
She turned her head ever so slightly and looked at me from the corner of her eyes, almost suspicious. For the longest moment of my life, she gazed at me. Then, a small smile appeared on her rose lips. "Yes, I should love to."  
  
It had been like a dream. I led her to the floor, and hesitantly put my hands upon her narrow waist. She pulled in closer, and I could smell the fragrance of her perfume. The rest of it, I didn't remember, except that it was the most amazing night of my life. We danced and danced until we could dance no more, and at the stroke of midnight, Arwen suggested going for a walk. In Elrond's lovely garden did we stroll, and when we were entering the villa again, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, so divine. I was drunk, drunk on the love I felt for her.  
  
Arwen and I kept our dignities and went our separate ways that night, but I knew I'd found something precious. We lived far from each other, but at the time, nothing would stop me from visiting her often. I dreamt of riding in the rain to see her, sleeping with her in my arms, breathing in her scent...ah, it was all too good to be true.  
  
And indeed, it was.  
  
For when I returned to her after that evening a month or so later, she'd changed. No, not physically, she was still beautiful and young as ever. But she was distracted. And the next time even more distracted. She was responsive to my conversations and her eyes were filled with love, but that love soon faded, and about a year later, I knew she loved me no more.  
  
"It's over," were my first words when I came in through the doors. "Arwen, we're over."  
  
"Legolas!" she exclaimed, and touched my arm, but I flinched and pulled away. She looked me with sad cerulean eyes brimmed with tears. I bit back my own.  
  
"Yes, it's over," she whispered. The words hit me hard-half of me had wanted her to reassure me I was just being pessimistic, just gloomy...but she said it too.  
  
When I was walking out the doors, a new stranger caught my eye. A sharp- looking mortal passed me with intense green eyes and dark hair. I glanced at him for a brief minute, and he surveyed me. Then, only a second later, we passed and it was over. But the feeling that he was more than what was on the surface never left me.  
  
Over the years, as blackness crept into the lands of Middle-Earth, my relationship with Arwen became stiff. At banquets, we would nod politely, make small talk and then go our own ways. I never had another lover-Arwen was my first love and my only. I found the dark mortal's name to be Estel. We talked easily enough, and over time developed a steady friendship. When I discovered he and Arwen were together, the pain was maddening, but I pushed it away. Why couldn't he be with her? He was, after all, going to be King of Men one day.  
  
Yet despite Aragorn's true title, Arwen's sweet nature and their natural attraction to one another, I couldn't shake the deep reluctance I felt toward their love. And it wasn't until I met Eowyn, White Lady of Gondor, did I first allow another to know what I'd felt.  
  
::: 


	3. A False Assumption

:::  
  
(Eowyn)  
  
:::  
  
I ran my fingers over the black gown trimmed in silver, feeling the fine velvet and careful stitching. Perfect. I slipped it on and looked in the mirror. The dress looked beautiful, tight at the waist, bell sleeves flowing and the long train trailing behind. I adjusted the low, rounded collar and put on the black veil that shielded my face. My large blue eyes were bright against the black clothing, and my hair carefully pinned up. I suddenly looked older than my 24 years. Was this what a widow looked like? No, a widow would have tears in her eyes, I had a devious innocence in mine.  
  
Tomorrow was the funeral. Hundreds upon hundreds of visitors were arriving. I didn't look forward to all the old royal sentimental ladies coming to me, hurling their flabby arms around, sobbing, and expecting ME to sob with them. I practically knew what they would say. 'Oh, my poor sweet girl, it was such an awful tragedy, so awful. You must be crushed! Look at you, so beautiful, so thin, my, we do need to find you another husband quickly.' And then I'd have to fake tears welling in my eyes but hold it in ever so daintily to prove my 'strength', although they all knew I was 'suffering infinitely' on the inside.  
  
Rubbish. I frowned and adjusted my dress again. Then, I carefully slipped it off and laid it carefully on the bed for tomorrow.  
  
My thoughts wandered to Aragorn, and my spirits lifted a notch. The King would be arriving tonight, of course, in mourning of his Captain. I knew he would suffer for the great loss, and a small part of me felt guilty. Faramir was not a man of evil, nor was he jealous, selfish or useless. He'd made a seemly Captain of Gondor, and possibly even a better husband.  
  
Ah, well, too bad he wound up with my treacherous intentions and me.  
  
:::  
  
(Arwen)  
  
:::  
  
A drizzling grey rain fell, shrouding the air with a silver haze. I could barely see my horse's ears twitching in front of me. Despite almost everybody's protests, I'd insisted on riding by myself. This morning, my stomach had begun to ache terribly. I didn't tell anybody, but my mood was sunken and the rain was making everything cold, wet and slippery. Ahead of me, Aragorn rode with a straight back and a tall chin. I loved seeing his dark hair, his broad shoulders, his lean flanks.  
  
As if reading my thoughts, my king tensed the reins to slow his horse and waited for me to ride by his side. We rode in silence, content by the other's presence. His grey eyes blended in with the rain as if they were a part of the endless mist.  
  
Oh, Estel, it would be that your name meant Hope, for you were the Hope of men, the Hope of our treacherous lives. Can you count the nights I gazed up at the black sky littered with stars, praying you were still alive? Is it possible to collect all the tears I shed for you, the righteous King of Men beneath a black cloak of a wandering vagabond?  
  
It was always in these times of darkness did I think about Aragorn, the Lost One, the righteous one. There was a tragic side to his life, the death of his great father Arathorn when he was a mere child. Oh, and how his mother fled from Gondor when 'twas in ruins, how she hid amongst the trees and traveled by feet into the hidden refuge of Rivendell, how she brought her little boy, only to die shortly after from illness. How he met and loved me, how I made the choice to stay, I wanted to entirely break down and weep. I loved this man so much, and although nothing would ever diminish my love for him, I felt as if his pain and sorrow was mine. There was a great sadness behind his deep-set eyes, his sparse and wise words, his lean physical body.  
  
"Are you feeling all right?" his deep voice breaking through the rain, grey eyes filled with concern. "I know the rain makes everything difficult, but we should be arriving at Meduseld shortly."  
  
"I'm fine," I reassured him. But a tight feeling was in my throat, and deep down, every step the horse took sunk my spirits even more. I didn't want to go to Meduseld.  
  
And I definitely wasn't looking forward to seeing Eowyn.  
  
:::  
  
(Legolas)  
  
:::  
  
All night I laid in my bed, unable to drift off into the unconscious realm of Elven-sleep. My thoughts kept on wandering to her, and a million thoughts ran through my sleepless mind. I knew she was to arrive with the King that very evening and spend a night under the roofs of Meduseld, and that I would see her in less than six hours in the morning, but the night seemed endless. Every second passed like an Age.  
  
Was she in good condition? The rain wasn't harsh tonight, but it was enough to dampen any spirit. Did she arrive yet? I assumed it was two or so in the morning. Oh, of course she was here, how could she not be...unless the rain slowed the journey, or there was an attack, and she was out in the cold, shivering and wet...  
  
Stop it, Legolas, you fool, I chastised myself. You're worrying about nothing, you'll see Arwen in the morning. Get some sleep, or she'll think you some drunkard with a hangover tomorrow.  
  
Oh, but how could I ever stop thinking of her? I'd been mad with desire for Ages, and my beloved was due under this same roof any minute...  
  
Eru, this was going to be the longest night of my three thousand years.  
  
:::  
  
(Eowyn)  
  
:::  
  
I woke to the pitter-patter of rain. Rubbing my eyes and looking out the window, I saw no hint of sunshine. It was going to be a dreary day. I grimaced to myself. This was the perfect weather for a funeral. Nice planning, Eowyn.  
  
I threw off the covers and properly washed myself, making sure to rinse my hair and apply herbal lotion to my soft skin after a quick soak. It was still quite early in the morning, but I knew Legolas was already up and knowing Aragorn, I assumed he'd awaken also. He didn't strike me as the type who slept long after dawn.  
  
Quickly, I laced and tightened my corset, then put the black gown on. It fit just as well as it had last night, catching every curve perfectly. I turned around slowly, admiring the fine velvet, dark as ebony. The dress was really beautiful on me. I walked over to my bureau and, peering into a handmirror, darkened my lashes and rouged my cheekbones and lips. It took a while to do my hair, but I managed to pin it up into an elegant, high bun. I set the veil ever so carefully on as to not mess up what had taken me so long to make. I laced my black, high-heeled boots and finally, threw on a long overcoat that trailed the ground. Looking into the floor-length mirror one last time, I could barely recognize myself. My hair pulled back showed the dainty thin shape of my face and the high cheekbones, and I looked so much thinner, so much taller in black. Any girl would be pleased by the reflection.  
  
Maybe you should do this more often, I smiled to myself as I walked downstairs. What I didn't expect was seeing Aragorn at the bottom of the staircase. He was standing pensively, hands clasped behind his back, looking as if he were waiting for someone.  
  
Aragorn heard the sound of my footsteps and turned around. By the look of his face, I knew he hadn't been expecting to see me, either. I stopped a few steps above him, and for a second, our eyes were locked. Blue and grey, what a beautiful combination.  
  
"Eowyn," he broke the silence, tearing his eyes from my face. Elbereth, he looked gorgeous. His hair was neatly parted and hung loose to his shoulders, and he wore a long black robe of rich wool. On his finger glinted his ring with the two serpents, and on the left hand, I wasn't pleased to see the silver band with inscription. The wedding ring, of course. I quickly averted my eyes from his hands and scanned his face for any expression, but besides being pensive, he looked neutral. Good. He wasn't upset to see me, or at least I hoped.  
  
"Eowyn," he repeated, taking my hand and brushing his lips upon my skin. His lips were soft and smooth, sending tingles down my back. "Your loss is mine also," he lowered his eyes. Oh, had he thought I'd looked distressed? I hoped I didn't look desperate or pathetic, because I certainly wasn't feeling that way!  
  
"Yes, I believe all across Middle-Earth do people mourn for - him," I said softly, deliberately choking on the last word. By the look in his eyes, I'd fooled him. Estel was an intelligent man, but he was probably too distressed to be noticing how my eyes never lost their coldness or how my tone wasn't sad at all.  
  
Ever so gently, he took me in his arms for an embrace. For a second, I was startled, but found myself sinking into his body. I could feel his strong arms around me, feel the power they held. Oh, this was where I belonged, right in Estel's arms...  
  
The embrace lasted for an eternity of joy, yet it broke off too soon. He looked at me almost expectantly before speaking. "The ceremony will begin shortly, milady. Go on, I must wait for Arwen."  
  
Ugh. What was that woman doing, lathering on a foot of makeup on her face? I, I would never make my beloved husband wait for me! I grew immensely cold at the sound of her name, and turned away from that lovesick expression in his eyes. Heavens above, he was still so damn enamored by her. Before my face would burn in jealousy, I calmly nodded and walked ahead, leaving Aragorn where I'd first seen him in quite a long time.  
  
But, my eye briefly caught a shadow upstairs, a shape that darted sharply back into the darkness. Or was that my imagination? Of course that was. I was seething, and this rage was probably making me hallucinate or something. Deep down, I knew it was silly to be so enraged, but I couldn't help it. SHE had to ruin it all, right from the beginning, when I was supposed to be with him. Me. ME.  
  
Arwen. How I hated her, her beauty, her grace, her Elven perfection. What was she that I wasn't?! Endless thoughts raced through my mind as I passed corridors and halls until I reached the grand courtyard, where the ceremony was taking place. Most of the guests had already arrived, and I was a bit shocked to see how many people there were. Hundreds. No, thousands, and all clothed in ebony. Out of the mass, I spotted Eomer toward the front and made my way toward him, trying to forget that horrid name that rang over and over in my head. I could only mingle with the crowd and wait the hours until all the guests arrived, and then the ceremony would begin.  
  
:::  
  
(Arwen)  
  
:::  
  
I awoke late, for we arrived the night before in the wee hours of the morning. My head throbbed and my stomach had begun to ache again. The room was dark and humid. I felt as if I was going to vomit. Desperately throwing off the sheets, I got up and groped my way in the dark for the window. Finding it, I pushed with all my strength, trying to unclasp the latch. Finally, it succumbed and opened-  
  
Rain.  
  
Grey, cold, ceaseless, pounding, hard. I turned away from the grey nothingness outside, sick of it. How I hated that rain, how I wished it were a beautiful, fresh day! Turning around, I noted that Aragorn wasn't in the bed, but that wasn't unusual. He was more of a morning person than I and I often awoke to an empty bed. A draft had begun to chill the room, and I shut the window shut and lit a candle instead. Light. Much better. I navigated my way to the washing room, grateful for the prospect of a cold shower to refresh myself from a horrible night of sleep.  
  
Thirty minutes later, after properly washing myself, I was glad to exit the clammy guest bedroom. The bed was unmade and my nightclothes had been strewn carelessly on the ground, but I felt too tired to straighten the room. My head was pounding as I stepped out and headed down the hall to go downstairs. When I was just making the turn to go downstairs, what I saw surely made my heart skip a beat.  
  
Eowyn and Aragorn. Embracing.  
  
I gasped involuntarily, then clamped a hand over my mouth, but they seemed too busy to have heard me. I quickly stepped away into the shadow of the wall where they could not see me, but I surely could witness them, and witness them I did.  
  
The embrace went on forever, both of them locked to each other. I watched, almost in an enchantment, as she leaned her head on her shoulder, how close they were together. I saw his strong arms wrapped around her thin waist, I noted how perfectly she fit into him...Gods above, was this real? In a stupefied horror, my eyes seemed to be unable to tear away from the horrible scene. Finally and seemingly reluctant, Aragorn released her. My throat tightened impulsively.  
  
He said something to her I couldn't hear, and she nodded and walked away. As she walked, seemingly distracted by something, her sight wandered upstairs-and for a second, I was sure she saw me. She blinked and I darted back, waiting apprehensively if she'd come up and find me...  
  
No. She shook her head, blinked again and resumed walking. Good, she probably thought she saw a random shadow or something. Relief surged through me.  
  
Aragorn had had his back turned to this the whole time. Just thinking his name brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lip, but found rivers flowing down my face, blotching my skin, wetting my dress. I felt so ugly, so rejected as I wept. My dark hair, still a bit damp from washing, tumbled down my face limply. Nothing compared to her golden river of hair. My weakness nothing to her strength, how she could fight for herself. My solicitude inferior to her outgoing attitude, how she was adored by everyone, when I only had Aragorn...  
  
Oh, why was he with her? What were they doing? Eru, were they in love? I knew this was ridiculous, but this couldn't be let go. He'd loved her before, hadn't he? All the rumors, all the whispers, all the looks everyone gave me when she'd shown up at our wedding had planted suspicion in my brain. But now, now, I was sure of it...they'd been in love...  
  
How could this be?  
  
Suddenly, it hit me. They were perfect together, weren't they? Perfect for each other. Man and woman, destined to die together. The King of Men and the White Lady of Rohan at his side, not a begotten, immortal she-Elf. I grew faint suddenly, my body weakening.  
  
Below, Aragorn was still standing by the staircase, waiting for me. Oh, was he that oblivious? Couldn't he hear my sobs? Didn't he care that his wife, his beloved wife, was weeping fifty yards away?  
  
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly tired and my breath short. I was gasping for air desperately. Something was wrong with me, my heart pounded painfully and my side ached. My tongue tasted the salt from my tears. I felt weak, so weak, and a jolt from my stomach sent my vision spinning. The shadows, the light, all the colors, the grey rain...everything was blurred. I felt my knees buckle, my head lose control, and the last thing I knew was a pair of green-blue eyes peering at me and strong arms catching me, before falling into the world of blackness.  
  
:::  
  
Please review, and criticism is always welcome! 


	4. Parting Farewell

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Please continue to feel free to point out what you like, what you don't like, how you feel, etc. The advice from everybody really does help me a whole lot. The other day, while reading over the previous chapters, I realized my writing wasn't very organized. It was kind of splattered everywhere and going a bit too quickly for the reader to be comfortable. I'll try to clean things up a bit. All right, enough of my mutterings, on with the story!  
  
:::  
  
(Arwen)  
  
:::  
  
My eyes snapped open and I jolted awake with a gasp, sweat dampening the hair on my brow. My head throbbed dully, but not as badly as before. Looking around in the dim light casted by a waning candle, I could see a couple of cots near me, white and all empty. Eru, this was a healing room! Elves rarely ever needed to be professionally taken care of - what was I doing here, of all places?  
  
Then the memory stuck me like a lightening bolt. Aragorn. My throat immediately closed and the beginnings of tears formed in my eyes, brimming them and then spilling onto the sheet.  
  
'Stop it, Arwen,' I thought angrily to myself. 'Don't be so weak. You gave up your immortality for this man. He loves you. It was just an affectionate embrace between friends...'  
  
But how affectionate, I could not help but wonder.  
  
I sighed. Thinking wasn't going to help me get anywhere. All of this was making my brain hurt. I decided to lay back down, but the moment my head touched the soft pillow, a soft knocking opened my eyes again.  
  
"Yes?" I called. My voice was raspy. I cleared my throat and called again. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's Legolas," a soft murmur replied. "May I enter?"  
  
"Of course," I said. I was disappointed. Where was Estel? Why wasn't he here by my side, as I would've been at his side if he were to be ill?  
  
Legolas came in, covering the distance in two long strides. His face looked distressed-his blue eyes were knitted in a frown and his cheeks were pale in color. The Prince of Mirkwood immediately knelt by the bed and took my hand in his own. I was amazed by how slender and soft his fingers were. Whenever I held Aragorn's hand, it'd been rough with calluses after years and years of hard swordsmanship.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked me, eyes searching my face for any symptoms. "Your face is pallid, is it too cold in here?"  
  
"No, no," I said quickly. "I feel fine, except for a pounding in my head."  
  
'And a broken heart nobody can mend,' I wanted to add, but it wasn't as if Legolas would care. He had his own issues to deal with, why wrap him in my personal love life? But I found myself tempted to tell him everything. There he knelt, deep blue eyes so filled with compassion...  
  
No. I couldn't. None of his business. Aragorn would surely be angry if he ever found out I was telling his closest friend about our love relationship!  
  
"What happened?" I sat up, gingerly touching my forehead, trying to forget how badly I wanted to tell him. "Oh, Eru, did I miss the funeral?" I suddenly burned with chagrin. The Queen of Men couldn't even attend the Captain of Gondor's funeral mass!  
  
Legolas didn't seem to be sharing my feelings. "Milady, you have been plagued with an intense fever. You've been asleep for two days now, 'tis not any fault of yours to miss the funeral. Everybody is worried. The King most of all, of course." Legolas said the last words with a firm tone, but he didn't meet my eyes fully. I wondered if something was going on, something that Legolas didn't want to tell me.  
  
But before I could ask, the door burst open. Legolas and I turned to see Aragorn standing at the doorway. The Elf immediately let go of my hand and stood up, brushing invisible dust from his tunic.  
  
"Aragorn," Legolas nodded with a smile. The King returned a hasty nod in greeting and rushed by my side. Legolas walked to the door, caught my eyes in his azure ones for a fleeting second, and was gone. I wanted him to come back, I wanted his gentle hands and kind words.  
  
"Undomiel," my husband murmured, distracting me. His grey-green eyes were brimmed with tears. "How are you faring?"  
  
I tore myself from his searching eyes and looked out the window. The rain had stopped, finally, and was replaced by what appeared to be wind, a few clouds and mild cool weather.  
  
"I'm doing well, Aragorn, it was just a fever," my voice sounded flat and cold even to my ears.  
  
"What I don't understand is that your Elven healing should have taken care of such a simple virus," he said pensively. "It was the rain and cold that triggered your fever, Arwen, but something had to have happened in order to make your body weaker, so that your system could not take both pressures at the same time."  
  
I raised my shoulders in a shrug and continued to stare out the window. Probably seeing him and Eowyn had started this whole craze. "How was the funeral?" I asked, not really wanting to know.  
  
"The funeral? It went well, although we sorely missed you," he said gently. I glanced at him for a brief moment, wondering if he spoke the truth. Had he stood with Eowyn? Comforted her?  
  
Of course he'd comforted her, her damned husband was dead! The thoughts were driving me crazy. Suddenly, I couldn't bear to look at Aragorn anymore. I felt a hard spasm in my stomach and blood pounding in my ears. My eyelids suddenly became very heavy, like they were weighted down by some invisible force.  
  
"Please," I choked. "Leave."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Get out, please," I sobbed, turning my head.  
  
"Arwen! What's wrong?" he stood up, leaning over to see my face which I was covering behind hands.  
  
I couldn't take this anymore. "GET OUT!" I practically screamed in his face, then dissolved into tears again. Aragorn looked shocked, and then his expression turned grim. He nodded. "Very well, milady," were the last words that rang into my ears before the door shut and I was left alone to cry myself to sleep.  
  
:::  
  
(Eowyn)  
  
:::  
  
I saw the tall, lean figure of Aragorn approach me. I was standing nearby a finely decorated tapestry, admiring the fine handwork. Never was I able to pull even a single thread, nor did I want to, but I had to admit the final product looked amazing. Aragorn's dark eyes were downcast. By his quick, heavy steps, I knew he was distressed.  
  
"Milord," I tried to read more of his face. "What is amiss? You look terrible."  
  
He sighed deeply. "It's nothing, Eowyn." He moved to walk past me, but I wasn't to be let go so quickly.  
  
"Tell me," I commanded in a firm tone. "Don't think me a poor listener because of my sex." His footsteps stopped echoing in the hall. Aragorn turned around to look at me. His face was blank, unreadable.  
  
"I've always thought you as a woman, Eowyn, on the outside. But never has my thought wavered about this - you have the mind, the courage, the soul of a man. A man I can trust. A man I can befriend. But I cannot tell you what is on my mind, for 'tis not any matter you can solve, nor will it affect you, if I can help it." He cast me one more sharp glance, a flash of blue green to my eyes, and turned around once again. I watched him disappear around the corner. He was headed for the West Side, most likely seeking peace in the gardens.  
  
I felt frustrated for a moment, then almost lovesick. He thought me his equal! I'd always wanted to prove myself when I'd been a young girl, beating all the boys in riding or running faster or disarming an opponent the quickest. But when I'd won, they'd all stared at me like I was some abnormal girl and walked away. I'd never known Estel had thought me somebody like that...  
  
"Eowyn?" a voice called from behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know it was Legolas. He laid a slender hand on my shoulder. "The lady doesn't seem to be feeling well, though she denies it."  
  
"Weak," I muttered through clenched teeth. Legolas didn't seem to hear me.  
  
"I couldn't go ahead with the plan," he said. I could almost hear a tint of happiness in his voice. "From her illness, there was no way I could've taken her. The rain really brought ill luck. She is leaving tomorrow, there is no time. How is Aragorn?"  
  
"Upset, by something," I murmured. "He won't tell me. It's probably about Arwen, he just came from her room."  
  
Legolas sighed. "If it's about Arwen, he can't tell me either. It's like he always suspects me of stealing her every time we mention her name."  
  
I had to smile. "If he's worried, well, what can we say? He should be."  
  
The Elf laughed softly.  
  
:::  
  
(Aragorn)  
  
:::  
  
I spent the rest of the day on horseback, enjoying the nice weather. I cleared my mind of all my worries. Thinking about Arwen wasn't going to help me. She was probably just delirious from her illness, I decided. As for now, I was more intent on treating myself to open meadows, cloudless skies and of course, my faithful steed Brego.  
  
We rode fiercely, Brego's legs pushing, his muscles bulging. I could once more feel the rush of open riding. The wind breezed through my hair and I inhaled the fresh air. The ecstasy was intense, leaving me almost breathless for more.  
  
At night, when Brego's sturdy legs could pump no more and he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, I led the beast back to the stables. He whinnied softly, poking at my pockets. I laughed and pulled out the apple I'd been saving. He grabbed it earnestly in his strong, white teeth and immediately began to chew loudly, spraying me with the juice.  
  
"You sly old fox," I stroked his soft muzzle. Many times had this devoted horse saved my life. He was getting a bit old, but Brego was as lively as ever. He was a friend age would never separate me from. I bid him a goodnight and headed back for Meduseld. It was late. A few stars had begun to twinkle in the dark sky. I remembered the nights Arwen and I used to spend stargazing, lying together on the open fields. The memory brought tears to my eyes. I kept my head down walking past the guards.  
  
My joints were stiff and my muscles already began to ache from the great deal of intense riding. I wanted to slip into bed right away, but before heading to the guest quarters, I slipped inside the Healing room. A petite nurse was the only occupant.  
  
"Excuse me," I said. She looked up, startled. "Where is the lady Arwen?"  
  
"She has retired into her regular chamber, Milord." I was glad to hear those words. I thanked the nurse and went back to the guest chamber. There was Arwen, sitting by the window and looking out at the black night. She was waiting for me. Her eyes rimmed red. I knew she'd been crying, and the thought struck a deep pang in my heart. When she saw me, she smiled timidly and stood up. I took her hands in mine, and for a second, we gazed into each other's eyes.  
  
"Oh, Estel," she whispered, penetrating the silence. Her ruby lips barely moved. "I'm so sorry..." A few crystal tears leaked from her eyes. I pulled her close, feeling her weep into my chest, while rubbing her back.  
  
All is always forgiven, all for the one I love...  
  
It must've been her delirious illness, it must've been. I convinced myself, repeating the words over and over in my head. I didn't want to come out and ask her, to question this delicate thing in my arms. She was my love, my soul. There could be no other reason. The thought was already planted firmly in my head.  
  
And when she whispered the words, "I love you" in the uttermost sweetest voice with the most heart-warming smile, any remaining doubts immediately flew out the window as I proceeded to carry my beloved into the bed we shared.  
  
:::  
  
(Eomer)  
  
:::  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief as I flopped down on my bed. It'd been a hard day. The recovery of Arwen had had dozens of people streaming in to her room, wishing her well. I bet she had been exhausted, just as I was now.  
  
The funeral of Faramir was somber and dark. I didn't even remember much of it save for all the gloomy expressions and tear-streaked faces. Most guests had already left, and the Gondorians were set to leave tomorrow.  
  
Something didn't feel right, though, I thought as I lazily stripped out of my clothes. The waiting woman, Ella...I'd known her for such a long time. It was indeed a strange thing that she should've killed Faramir. And without any reason! She wasn't insane, of that I knew at the least. The whole deal was like a puzzle to me. I couldn't fill in the missing spaces.  
  
My thoughts and pondering didn't get a chance to expand as I at last, kicked off my boots and lay in my underclothing on the cool bed. The chill air felt good on my sweaty skin, and in a few moments, I sank into a deep slumber.  
  
:::  
  
(Arwen)  
  
:::  
  
The sun was shying away, not visible to the eye except for the telltale glow toward the East. I stifled a yawn. My limbs ached slightly, but they were just stiff from lying on a cot for two straight days. The day was to be hot - I could tell. Heat was no friend of mine, so I'd gotten up early to enjoy the fresh weather at the break of day.  
  
I stood in the Rohan gardens, shading my eyes from the sun's carmine shine. The flowers and plants that thrived here were nothing compared to the ones my father had grown in Rivendell, the Elven refuge. Hot tears sprang to my eyes at the thought of my beloved father. He was in the Havens, in the arms of his wife...  
  
A quiet cough caught my attention. I gave a gasp. Legolas was standing next to me! Goodness, he was so silent and lithe his presence was almost terrifying at times. I stared at him, mouth agape.  
  
"Beautiful sunrise, isn't it?" he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn't scared the living dead from my body just a few moments ago. However, I caught the twinkle in his eye that showed he was pleased at making a girl's heart skip a beat.  
  
"Yes, you never do see much of these, especially in the dreadful weather," I played along.  
  
"What are you doing up, Arwen? You were never the early riser, if I am correct," he grinned his lopsided smile. He reminded me so much of the youth I'd known, countless years ago. He'd been awkward and innocent. Now, a century later, I was surprised at his graceful steps and smooth words. Legolas had certainly grown up. Yet he still kept his boyish mischief, something I'd always loved about him.  
  
I blushed at his words. "Well, sleep happens," I smiled back. "I'm more of a nocturnal person, though."  
  
"Well, you still haven't answered my question. Why is our sleepy friend awake at this rare moment?" Legolas began to walk, and I beside him.  
  
"I suppose it was because I'm leaving this beautiful country," I replied. "Where I dwell is not close to this land of fields and plains and swaying grasses. I wanted to relish this different change of atmosphere."  
  
"You can always stop at Mirkwood," Legolas looked at me. His exquisite blue eyes were almost staring. I averted my eyes. Why was it that whenever I was around this Elf, he made me feel like a young foolish girl again, coquetting?  
  
"Yes," I simply replied. "It's been a long time, Legolas, since I'd seen you in your homeland."  
  
He looked pensive. Then, with a sigh, "Almost too long." I wondered what he meant by those words. I only nodded. His eyes were looking down at me again, boring into my soul. I felt naked around him, without the need to flush or cover myself up. It wasn't unpleasant. No, not at all.  
  
Then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed my cheek. Up close, I could smell his tingly masculine scent. Then, with a flash of straight white teeth and something about ''Work to do,'' he was gone as quickly as he'd came.  
  
I was left standing there, wondering yet again about Legolas Greenleaf and his mysterious ways.  
  
A few hours later, after a refreshing brisk walk and a few runs around the fields with my horse, I was exhausted, exhilarated and satisfied. I didn't feel sick anymore at all, I felt young and healthy instead. When I'd reached the chamber, Aragorn was gone on a farewell-hunting trip with Eomer. I packed the few possessions we'd brought. Then, though I could hardly believed three measly days had passed so quickly, the Gondorian people exchanged last embraces and kisses at the front doors of Meduseld. Aragorn was standing beside me, waving and saying farewells to his people.  
  
On our way out, I passed the Lady Eowyn, who was standing by the door. I hadn't spoken to her the whole time at Rohan, and I suddenly felt a bit ashamed of myself. She was staring at me, her huge blue eyes focused intently. I gave her a slight smile, trying to forget all the enmity I'd felt. However, her response was not what I'd anticipated. She did not smile back - in fact, she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly and turned to Aragorn.  
  
"Goodbye, milord," she said in a high, delicate voice as Aragorn bent down to kiss her cheek. It was stupid, but I felt myself swelling with rage and jealously when his lips touched her soft white skin. That bitch! I'd offered her peace and she'd rejected it, only to go to my lover! My face was flushing and I quickly turned away-  
  
And caught Legolas' sapphire emerald gaze. Standing beside Eomer, the Elf's face was kissed by crimson and he looked like he'd gone through an intense evening of archery and running and whatever it was that men did in their spare times, I did not ever pay much attention. However, he was smiling at me. His eyes were sparkling and he looked lighthearted. We were too far apart to speak, as I was being pushed every step, but he mouthed a 'farewell' and gave a slight nod, never taking his eyes off my face. I waved numbly. All my thoughts about Eowyn and Aragorn were long gone.  
  
On the journey home, I couldn't concentrate on the conversation Aragorn tried to start. He kept starting to talk, commenting on the tragedy or the weather, but all I could do was nod along. I felt like an idiot, but there wasn't really anything else to say, was there? Not when all I could think about was the deep blueness of Legolas' eyes.  
  
Was I falling in love with him all over again?  
  
::: 


End file.
